


Cullen's Dirty Little Secret

by Carleen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Romance, Loneliness, M/M, Searching for acceptance, Searching for love, Unrequited Love, cullen rutherford - Freeform, dorian pavus - Freeform, gay relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3530102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carleen/pseuds/Carleen





	1. Secrets

 

* * *

Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools. —Alexander Pope 

* * *

The empty practice yard was still covered in frost when Dorian Pavus demonstrated a spell for the soldiers. They watched eagerly while the mage prepared to launch a spell intended for the stack of hay piled a few yards away. It was a simple bit of magic. One he’d performed many times in his life and perfected fighting with the Inquisition. This frosty evening, the soldiers asked him for a bit of entertainment to soothe their frozen hearts. Dorian was happy to oblige them. They worked hard and he never minded being the center of attention. One or two of the young men watched him carefully, the mage noticed how their eyes darted to his body then shy away. There was always time for that later. This wasn’t Tevinter and openly flirting with any of the Inquisition soldiers might lead to misunderstandings. Still, the lieutenant staring at him so openly might just be what he needed. 

Dorian threw the spell igniting the hay and sending a bloom of smoke in colors of red, blue and green into the air. They clapped delightedly. "Now let me tell you about the time the Inquisitor and I took on a dozen demons with no one but ourselves to help."

"Pompous ass," Cullen spat before turning away from the campfire in disgust. He'd had enough of watching that Altus Mage strut his arrogant strapping self all over the camp. The same arrogance, which deluded him into thinking he entertained the troops by telling outlandish stories that were obvious lies. A few years in the military would have ironed that bravado right out of him. Taught him to wear a uniform, instead of those ridiculous, shiny leather things, which did more to show off his brawny arms than protect him. Any archer worth his salt could see the glint of that shiny metal across a battlefield. Was he that arrogant? The damn mage was a target nothing more. Only an egotistical fool refused to wear armor in the field. No one could predict where an arrow might land or an errant sword slash. Not that the man would ever get that close to a fight. Wouldn't want to mess up that hair or ruffle his mustache. What about the constant presence of fire on the battlefield? The whole world was burning, and he strutted around half naked as if nothing would dare mar the smooth skin stretched taut over firm muscles.

The next thirty minutes were spent making his routine nightly inspection. The fall evening did nothing to cool the growing frustration at the arrogant man clinging to his every thought. Why did he care? He didn't care, and that was that. After a quick salute to the tower guard, Cullen headed to his quarters for a much-needed drink and sleep. The door to his quarters banged open as he entered heading straight for the bottle of wine sitting on his small writing desk.

"Pompous ass," he muttered, enjoying the sound of it more and more. He yanked off this leather cloak and sent it spinning to a nearby chair.

"True, but I'm told it's a lovely pompous ass. And now, my dear sir, about those feathers. You strut around the camp like a rooster in a hen house. Not enough hens to make it worth the bother. Unless, of course, it's not the hens. Yes?"

Cullen whirled in the darkened room toward the unexpected sound. Just enough light from the small fireplace to watch the handsome mage push himself off the wall and sauntered toward Cullen. The light colored eyes reflected the flames of the fire and candlelight. Cullen tried and failed to look away from those eyes that could pin Cullen where he stood.

"Your speculations are meaningless and your behavior frivolous," he managed to say in a mouth suddenly dry.

"Flirting, Mister Rutherford?"

"Maker, save me from civilians," Cullen responded, slamming his hand against the mantle.

"I care nothing for rank, so don't expect all the little niceties."

"It's called respect."

"Where I come from—for all its faults—respect is earned."

"That's rich coming from you." Cullen poured himself a cup of wine and downed it in one gulp. "The spoiled Tevinter mage."

"Am I making you nervous, Commander?"

"Get out of my quarters."

The mage stopped Cullen from pouring more wine by placing his hand over the cup.

"No need for drunkenness," he said with a voice so rich with innuendo Cullen leaned into its promise. Rarely serious, Dorian's voice seemed always filled with cheeky humor or cynicism. Life was dangerous, his world held nothing but duty, and too often death hovered over his shoulder. The tension of the responsibility he carried on his neck and shoulders like a yoke began to loosen its grip. The Commander couldn't afford those emotions, they weren't part of his make-up. On the battlefield, he often noticed Dorian's comments lightened the moment, pulled them from exhaustion or invited courage just when needed.

"Just here to talk. Unless you want—"

"—want what?" He shot back. Maker, he was tired. "Talk about fashion?"

"If you wish." Dorian placed one finger on Cullen's right shoulder. "The feathers hide your broad shoulders and the firm line of your jaw. While the black color looks divine me, it does nothing for you." Dorian smiled that endearing crooked smile of his and dragged a finger down Cullen's jawline. "And in battle, the cape hinders your field of vision."

"What does that matter? I'm not allowed to fight."

"Of course, not. You're too important. Your leadership abilities, experience and all that." Dorian lowered his voice, his fingertips smoothing his mustache. He cast a sideways glance at Cullen. "And, I would see you kept safe."

Cullen shoved the man away and determinedly walked the five steps to the other side of his quarters. Slamming the poker against the smoldering wood, he stoked up the fire and said over his shoulder, "I don't need to be kept safe, and I don't know why you're here. That lieutenant can't take his eyes off you. Go talk to him and take that bottle with you."

"I heard the lieutenant is looking for a daddy," the mage laughed. "And I'm no one's daddy. Curious, however. What makes you think I'm here for seduction."

"I don't," Cullen shrugged off the leather cuirass and belt. Under the linen shirt, his chest heaved as if he'd just come from a fight. The light color suited his complexion and brown eyes. With a long sigh, Cullen tried again, "I'd like to get some sleep. Why are you still here?"

"Because there's a question you want to ask me."

What question?" Cullen's voice grated across the small space. He toed off his boots and kicked them into the corner. "Never mind. Will you please leave?"

"You've been a soldier your whole life. Yes?"

"Silence, I beg you."

But Dorian wouldn't listen, he couldn't hear Cullen's words. Words he needed to say forced themselves out over Cullen's objections.

"You are no longer a Templar, yet you remain cloistered. Denying yourself pleasures of any kind." Dorian moved to stand directly behind the agitated man. "Cullen, all things are possible with me. And, although you don't trust me now. Perhaps in time, I might earn your trust, and you'll see the spoiled Tevinter mage is a merely a man, just like you who too often must hold himself apart. Who feels, just as you do, the oppressive weight of expectation is sometimes too much of a burden."

"I'm a soldier. My duty, my responsibility…Do you even know what that's like, Dorian? Their very lives are my responsibility. I have to make sure there's enough food, lodging, weapons. We must be battle ready if the Inquisitor calls on us."

"A man in your position is always on duty. Yes? Never a moment—"

—"Yes, yes, yes! Is that what you want to hear?" Cullen turned so suddenly he had to grab Dorian to keep from knocking him over. So close, that when Dorian spoke again, Cullen felt the warm siren call of his breath on his cheek. The room closed around the two men; firelight bathed them in muted colors of red and orange. Their bodies leaned toward the other in anticipation.

"Ask."

"What? Ask for a moment? An hour? No, duty? No, responsibility? Not possible."

"Bend your head just a little, and you will find the answer to your question."

Cullen shook his head deliberately stepped away from temptation. "You're a mage…"

"Bloody Templars," Dorian shot back. "You hide behind religious bigotry to cover what you want? Do you imagine I need to ask for what I want, Commander? Perhaps that lieutenant might prove serviceable for the night. " Dorian shrugged himself away from the blond man, surprised at how much Cullen's comment hurt. "I expected more from you, Commander." Dorian turned at the door, "Sleep well if you can."

"No!"

Before he could open the door, the mage found himself flipped around and pinned to the wall.

"Now, that's a little more like it." Dorian relaxed against the door and grinned.

"Be silent."

"Then silence me, sir. I should like to see you try."

The reflective eyes the color of a calm sea pulled him in. The powerful scent of leather and sweat poured off the mage igniting Cullen's long-buried need. A silent moan pushed past his lips when Cullen trapped the man's head in his hands.

"Why do you torment me?" Cullen pushed his body into Dorian's, flattening himself against the mage. Dorian spread his legs allowing Cullen to press closer and he took advantage of the invitation. With the fear of sin battling against his attraction to this man, Cullen wasn't gentle when he pushed the mage's head back and covered his mouth with his hungry lips. Flames of desire licked at Cullen's flesh, melting the guilt and kindling the need for more. Heated blood raced through him in preparation. But he never allowed these needs fulfillment. Never. Long years of denial and withdrawal from Lyrium left him dizzy and confused. Blinking his eyes to clear his thoughts the only thing he could see was Dorian's mouth, and he hungered for it.

"Maker, please." Cullen lifted Dorian away from the door and wrapped him in his arms. Finally, his chest heaving and hands fisted into the mage's leather clothes, Cullen broke the kiss and dropped his head to the mage's shoulder,

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean... please go."

"Lovely man, do not despair," Dorian whispered against Cullen's cheek. "I've been a port in the storm before. I would be yours. If you'll let me."

Cullen dug his fingers into Dorian's biceps and in a tone of voice that failed to match the strength of his grip, "I cannot."

Dorian slipped his hands over Cullen's lower back and felt Cullen give in when he bumped himself the mage's hip. Wrapping his palm around Cullen's cheek. "Let me give you that moment."

Seduction in Tevinter meant sharing a goblet of wine or a meaningful glance across the room. No complications, find a quiet place for the necessary amount of time and enjoy the moment. Had he ever actually seduced a man, been inspired to quiet a troubled spirit, and taken care not spook the object of his desire? The answer was no because most men and women, to be honest, threw themselves at him. This was different. This was a growing need for him to offer succor and soothe a worried brow.

How very odd. And what would he do with this great golden-eyed blond afterward? Would his generosity earn him a grateful puppy dog? Yes, he'd experienced that too. But the Inquisition, archdemons, and all that rot made the stakes too high for that kind of distraction.

But the man was distraction itself. All powerful muscles, golden sunlight, and commanding presence. He could wield a sword like a man born to it, lead and encourage men. Yet, it was the haunted exhausted eyes that pulled Dorian in and made him step close enough to look inside. What he found surprised him because it was also the quick mind and the innocence. The fact Cullen could beat him at chess, and damn the man, better read only added to Dorian's fascination.

Cullen shifted against him, pulling him from his thoughts. A hand covered his and a voice spoke softly against his cheek, "Please go. I don't want your pity."

Pity? No, Dorian realized with a thump of his heart. "I offer no pity, Commander."

"What do you offer?" The Commander demanded, his heart beating a terrified staccato threatening to burst his ribs.

"A moment ago your kiss was filled with anger and frustration. How long has it been since anyone kissed you with passion?"

"Passion?" Cullen huffed a laugh of derision. "Templar training… the Lyrium… What it does to us. You don't understand."

Dorian tipped the man's chin up, "And, you worry what they would do to you if they found out your dirty little secret." Cullen sagged against him. Of course, that was it. Dorian stayed still. If he wanted to pull Cullen against him, now was not the time. Patience.

"We are not so different, you and I," the mage ventured, rubbing his cheek against the Templar's. "Both of us trapped in a lifestyle not completely of our own making. Yes?"

" _Mage,_ you see too much."

"Your secret is quite safe with me. Perhaps we shall both unlock a few secrets tonight."

Cullen stiffened and braced his arms against the door frame.

"Or," Dorian chuckled softly, "a small one or two?"

Cullen lifted his eyes and Dorian took that as a definite maybe and pressed his lips to Cullen's.

"N-no it's just weakness…" Cullen said his voice whispered in hoarse tones.

"Your body burns, the hands twisted into my shirt do not feel weak. Indeed, exactly like they might tear me apart. But you cannot hurt me. You don't trust me because I am a mage, yet you won't allow me to move away from this door. Your body betrays the restrictions and fears your mind places on itself."

Dorian pulled the laces of his shirt open and placed Cullen's hands on his bared neck. "I have no arguments left," Dorian said, looking directly into the golden eyes. "Don't make me leave. If you won't do this for me, then do it for yourself. I am yours to command."


	2. Muscle

* * *

“The function of muscle is to pull and not to push, except in the case of the genitals and the tongue.” ― Leonardo da Vinci

* * *

The large soldier's hands, born to wield a sword or fold in prayer, burned with a strength born of desire. An easy twitch of his hands ripped open Dorian's shirt. When Cullen buried his face against the warm bare shoulder, the expensive leather garment fell unheeded to the floor.

Cullen moved his lips across the exposed collarbone and up to the mage's ear. "You taste warm and dark like the whiskey my father kept hidden in the cellar." Cullen used his tongue to lap up the taste of Dorian's flesh. The mage let his head fall back and carded his fingers into Cullen's thick blond hair.

When Dorian pushed Cullen's linen shirt away, uncovering the shoulders he'd dreamed about all he could do lay his head in the warm hollow of the molded shoulder. Cullen's eyes widened when he realized his was as naked as the Mage. His reaction to the impact of their flesh pulled a groan from Cullen. Dorian lifted his head, smiled that crooked smile Cullen loved so well and pulled him in for another kiss.

"Dorian… I can no longer resist you. Will you…?" Cullen turned away, trying to hide the troubling emotions from his expression. "Teach me how to touch you…"

"Teach you? And what do I have here in my arms, a virgin? And a blushing virgin at that."

"Once, with a farm girl. I don't know..."

"But not a farm boy… Well," Dorian hushed the man's confession by sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. When Cullen responded to the kiss by arching toward him, he decided to take it a step further. "If we might make ourselves more comfortable?"

Before Dorian allowed Cullen to sit down on his bunk, he made quick work of the man's pants and when he saw the naked desire spring unbound, he said a prayer. The neglected cock jutted engorged and glistening from the small nest of blond curls at Cullen's groin. The flat stomach, broad shoulders, and strong legs took Dorian's breath away.

The work-worn hands and scarred chest were not those of a foppish, carefully groomed Tevinter boy out cruising for a night's amusement. This man was a soldier, more accustomed to leading men into battle, fighting demons and protecting the innocent.

"Sweet Maker, you don't know, do you? How beautiful you are?"

"Let's leave the Maker out of this shall we?" Cullen grinned and tugged on the complicated lacing of Dorian's pants.

"I like that smile, Commander," he said grabbing Cullen's lips for another kiss while he worked the lacings. The relief of freeing himself from the tight leather came out in an unexpected groan of relief. Moaning and groaning were not his style, and that made him grin. He paused before slipping out of his pants, wondering if this could prove a stopping point for Cullen. Before pulling back, Dorian kissed him deeply pushing him back on the bed and gently sliding his tongue in and out of Cullen's mouth.

"Where are you?" The soldier reached for him.

"Not far. But it will take two hands to remove these. Will you be patient and wait for me?" The hunger he felt for the naked man waiting so innocently for him had him breathing in short, impatient gasps. Like the sweet comfits, he stole from the kitchens melting in his mouth and always left him wanting more. It didn't take him long to strip himself, and when he was naked, sat down next to Cullen.

Dorian placed flat hands on Cullen's chest. The soldier shifted under the shimmering current from Dorian's hands. The magical pulse ran along his body, diving between corded muscles, circling his cock and tightening the sack underneath.

Cullen grabbed for him, stopping the motion. "We don't need that, Mage. I need only you."

"But…" Dorian frowned with disappointment. No, he scolded himself, this was not the time. Patience.

Then before he could stop or prevent it from happening Dorian found himself on his back beneath the muscular weight of the soldier. Well, that answered the question of who was the stronger of the two. Not that it mattered, but he couldn't remember ever being handled quite so neatly. Honestly, first the door, now this. Delicious.

Cullen braced himself on his elbows to search the depths of sea green eyes of the man beneath him. The incredible feeling of their cocks laying together, pressing and molding with their combined desire igniting a magical fire of its own, neither man could ignore. There was a question in the soldier's eyes and just a little bit of fear.

"Yes, it's just like this and so much more."

"I-I need to move… Dorian," he managed between breaths.

Dorian watched a trickle of sweat curve over Cullen's stiff neck. He could just allow Cullen to move until the friction pushed them both to release. But Maker he needed to touch this man! Rolling Cullen to his side, he took the man's hand in his to stroke them both.

A long shivering moan went out of Cullen, and he arched his hips. "Dorian… I… It's not enough." Cullen helplessly crushed his hips against the mage's hands, writhing and searching for just the right spot.

"It never is… And I want so much more with you. Will you let me take you there? Watch. Don't look away." For all Dorian's bravado and skill, he was nearly overcome himself. What manner of man was this who could light such a fire in him, with unskilled hands and plain words.

Cullen's hand joined his, and they brought themselves to new heights of passion. For Cullen, it was the drama of his first time. For the mage, it was the wonder of genuine passion. If the words were unsophisticated, Dorian understood the truth of them and their origin the man's stout heart. And although that was a novelty in itself, Dorian found it devastating.

Heavy lidded amber eyes caught the luminosity of the mage's glance. A silent agreement passed between them, with their chests heaving; they kept their heads together. After a ravaging kiss, they watched their actions and moved against each other. If they were too rough, there was no stopping. If Cullen feared losing control, their entwined legs and Dorian's arm under his chest kept him grounded.

They rocked together, whispering words of understanding and acceptance.

" _Amicus_   _mea, amicus_ …harder. Please." The mage's words tumbled out of his mouth. He was losing himself, and he knew it because he'd just professed Cullen as his love.

His body was no longer his to control, yet Cullen could open his hand and take over. Pushing himself up on his forearm, he moved over Dorian and continued stroking. Dorian watched him for a moment, then eyes blown with passion closed as his head fell back to the pillow.

Cullen felt himself weakening, a thousand fires burned in his belly and flayed his cock with secret promises. There was pain and the undeniable promise of what was to come. That he was naked in bed with someone was cause enough for wonder, but the rest, he simply could not comprehend. Until, with a shout, Cullen emptied himself over their chests and hands. Instinctively he stopped the movement, while Dorian carded his fingers through his hair.

 _"Cullen."_  His own voice sounded strange in his ears.

When he could open his eyes, he realized Dorian had not followed him over the edge. The mage still lay with head thrown back, legs splayed open, his chest rising and falling with ragged breath. What could he do, he wondered? If the mage's kisses tasted so good to him, would this be just as erotic?

Cullen shifted down on the bed and wrapped his arms around Dorian's hips. Before the mage could stop him, he pulled Dorian's cock into his mouth. He gasped while fingers fisted into the golden hair. The mage pushed himself into Cullen's welcoming mouth.

If he was sore then the mage must be too, so he carefully swirled his tongue and lips around the overstimulated organ. Hard and salty, the scent filled his nose and mouth with essences of the handsome mage who haunted his dreams. Cullen breathed deeply, taking in as much as he could. More intoxicating than old whiskey and sweeter than new mead. Dark hairs tickled his nose when Dorian pushed into the mouth that held him. It took Dorian by surprise when Cullen slipped his hands under his buttocks and lifted him.

The first time, Cullen raised the mage and took him deeply into his mouth, he sucked hard before allowing the flushed organ to fall out of his mouth to Dorian's belly. He took it all in again when the mage pushed his head back down allowing it to bump the back of his throat. Dorian cried out against the loss of Cullen's mouth when he let it fall out of his mouth again bumping over his teeth and lips.

The second time, Cullen lifted the mage's hips and swallowed him, the mage shouted his name.

The third time, Dorian groaned out his orgasm, pulsing and quivering into the soldier's welcoming mouth.

With a touch on his shoulder, Cullen released Dorian and moved over him. Without speaking, they curled together, straining to have every inch of skin touching the other's overheated flesh.

He was a soldier. He never paid attention to tastes or smells or things that might delight his senses. Laying in the mage's arms, relaxed and sated, he allowed himself to savor them all. The mage smelled of dark secret places and rich damp earth. Tasted of old whiskey, and the salty ocean. And he thought, that in all of his life, he'd never felt so content as he did right now, with the mage's tousled dark head contrasted against his pale chest.

He was an Altus Mage from Tevinter and suddenly that was meaningless. He might be accustomed to the clean spicy scent of oiled men prettily arranged for his pleasure. The men and women of Tevinter, who took sex for granted or used it to gain advantage or wield as a weapon. The man who held him so tightly smelled of horses and healthy sweat and the generosity he'd just shown him came not from experience or the desire to control, but from his heart.

If Dorian wasn't very careful, he would fall in love with this man and that wouldn't do at all.

Fingers stroked through his dark hair, "Dorian, what are those words you spoke,  _amica mea_?"


	3. Yielding

* * *

 

"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." -Oscar Wilde

* * *

Two men, one dark and brooding, the other golden and fair lay curled together in Cullen's bed, hardly wider than the width one of their shoulders. Bonded together by the physical evidence of their passion and proprietary emotions they will begin to identify when dawn wakes them for the day. What started as a battle of wit and indecision ended in a night of passion.

The mage began to stir and starts for a moment when he fails to identify his surroundings. The man beneath him continues to sleep soundly, and Dorian relaxes his cheek against the steady heartbeat. They smell of each other's sweat and results of their lovemaking. The mage's hair is a mess and Cullen's morning breath floats over his sensitive nose. Long arms hold him possessively where he lay sprawled over the soldier's broad chest. If not exactly the silk cover and down feathers, he's accustomed to, it is a place of solitude, and acceptance and he never wanted to leave it.

_Never wanted to leave it? Maker's breath, what was he thinking?_

Wrapped in the memories of the past hours and the passion they'd shared. How in the depth of the night with only the light from the stars shining through the glass window they'd reached for each other a second time. Without, to Dorian's surprise, the usual competitiveness, or desire for control he expects. What Dorian found was a man shivering with arousal and shy about revealing it? So shy he pulled the blanket over himself.

_Oh no, that won't do._

In the darkness, Dorian began to move over the sturdy frame. With a lingering kiss on Cullen's lips, the mage moved his mouth over the muscular body. Fingers rolled over hard nipples and squeezed firm flesh. The hard line of Cullen's pectoral muscle quivered under the scrape of Dorian's teeth. The hard belly rigid with muscle and heaving under the mage's foraging mouth and tongue. Men had so many sensitive spots they never acknowledged or explored. Dorian knew them all.

The mage continued to move over the soldier and finally settled himself between the man's legs. Cullen's hips were moving, thrusting helplessly and breathing in short gasps. Dorian paused and kissed the soldier while Cullen's fingers stroked the thick dark mane.

"Shhh, I've got you."

With careful attention to the soldier's reactions, Dorian made love to the man's cock with slow, languid movements and skill equal to the level of abandonment Dorian experienced by giving this man pleasure.

When he saw Cullen's legs open, he carefully and gently dragged a finger under the sack and along the tender skin, to touch the sensitive opening. It was a given that no one had ever touched the man this way and Dorian was gentle. To the mage's delighted surprise, Cullen's reaction was immediate and not so gentle. The touch caught Cullen in a shudder that moved his long naked body like a wave on the ocean. He grabbed the mage's hand.

"More."

For a long moment, Dorian studied the body laying so trustingly beneath him. With his legs spread, arms open, and his head thrown back. Raising up, Dorian moved his mouth over Cullen's lips. "I will do as you ask, but if I hurt you, then you have but to touch my arm and I will stop."

"Maker! Of course… Dorian please… touch me…"

Dorian settled himself between Cullen's legs again and without touching him with his hands, Dorian placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his cock. Cullen answered with a moan, and whispers of the mage's name.

With a wry grin, the mage swirled his tongue around the crown and down the corded ridge. When Dorian raised his hips to meet him, Dorian pulled the soldiers legs up, hooking his knees over his shoulders. While Dorian kept the soldier distracted making love to his cock, he wet his finger and slipped one inside. Then two. From that moment, it was all Dorian could do to hang on to the writhing man.

It was glorious, and the Dorian reveled in it.

Balanced between the foraging mouth and the fingers thrusting inside him, Cullen could only give in and surrender to the sensations. Equally mesmerized by the taste and feel of Cullen's body, Dorian felt a sense of abandonment strange to him.

The eager cock bumped the back of his throat with each thrust. When he felt Cullen's body harden toward a climax, he pushed his fingers deep, stroking the secret place inside, so few men knew. The impact of Dorian's ministrations brought Cullen up from the bed, shouting his name and climaxing in a shower of spent desire. When it's over, and Dorian withdrew, he realized he'd reached his peak in the midst of pleasuring Cullen. Now, that was a first, Dorian mused as they collapsed together and drifted back to sleep.

Now it's morning, and his is still resting atop the broad chest of the Commander. The mage suddenly realized two things. Both of which shocked him enough cause Cullen to stir. One, he'd never actually spent the entire night with a partner and second, the circumstance of finding himself waking in another man's arms the most romantic thing he'd ever experienced. And for a man for whom the word romance didn't exist, that was saying a lot. The whole thing crashed about in his head, causing him to twist away from the slumbering man.

Arms tightened around him and pushed his head back down. A sleepy voice filled with humor rumbled under Dorian's chest. "No lightning, no hell-fire burning me for my sins. Looks like we're safe."

"Speak for yourself. Imagine what they'll say back home when they find out I've bedded a Templar?"

"Then you'd better stay here."

Dorian rose up, "I was just thinking that very thing," he murmured running his lips across the hard line of a pectoral muscle and looked earnestly into Cullen's eyes.

"I'll protect you," Cullen said the words like a vow, smoothing his hands over the mage's smooth naked back.

"I rather think you would and not just from Venatori or an Archdemon, but for the same reasons I…"

"Tell me."

"You. You've quite turned my head. Not accustomed to this sort of thing."

"Dorian," Cullen murmured. "I want to say something about last night."

"Not necessary." Dorian began kissing the neck and shoulders to distract him. "I feel it too, dear man. But you don't know me, keep that heart safe a while longer."

Cullen chuckled again, "I'm not sure I can make that promise. I'm not the same man I was a few hours ago."

"Neither of us can predict the future. I admit that I intended to seduce you as a challenge. To get under that pious hide of yours." Dorian turned a genuine smile toward Cullen to let him know that he'd fallen under his spell. "Now... this morning, it's..."

Cullen sat up suddenly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Eyes that a moment ago held innocent affection hardened. "Well, it worked didn't it. You're done here, then? Perhaps you'd better go."

"Allow me to finish."

Cullen shook his arm off and headed for the door. After gathering his clothes, he stopped. "Nothing more to say, Mage. I hope you enjoyed your amusement. Did you have a wager on it as well?" Cullen spoke over his shoulder to a bewildered mage, "I can only trust you'll keep this between us. Unless of course, you really have wagered on it. What did you call it? My dirty little secret?"

"Cullen, you're deliberately obtuse. Wait." But the door slammed shut rattling its hinges.

They didn't speak for two months. During that time, everything changed. The Inquisitor successfully closed the Breach and Corypheus utterly destroyed. The world took a deep breath and looked around. While, across the land, people began to return to their homes, restored crops and rounded up livestock. They celebrated their victories and cheered when the Inquisitor returned to Skyhold safe and whole.

In all those days and nights, through planning meetings, exercise, and meals the two men avoided each other. Cullen kept the experience locked away and turned toward what he knew, drilling the soldiers relentlessly and shouting at them to improve their skills.

While the mage thought about it every day. Wondering how the man had gotten to him, how to make it right and should he even try. Perhaps he'll simply pack his bags and go home to Tevinter. He could admit to himself that the Inquisitor's selfless acts inspired him to try to do something for his beloved Tevinter. He would go home, make some sort of peace with his father, and try to make things better. He was determined to try.

Late one night, in a hidden corner of the library, Dorian sat in a pool of candlelight reading. It was when he gave up trying to concentrate and tilted his head back to allow himself to absorb the peace and quiet that Cullen suddenly appeared.

"You can't leave, he needs you."

Dorian let the book shut with a snap. "For clarity's sake, may I assume you aren't referring to yourself in the third person?"

"You know who I'm talking about, Mage. The Inquisitor." It took all his pride or perhaps he'd put his pride aside to talk to the mage again. The mage was leaving in the midst of recovering from this battle, or war of magical mess or whatever it had been. He was needed here, and Cullen decided this arrogant and obviously lazy mage needed a reminder.

Dorian felt the same and slowly rose to his feet. "If you'll recall, Commander, from the beginning, the Inquisitor barely tolerated my presence. Once I proved my skills, he allowed me to stay.  _Allowed me to stay_. I've endured slurs and outright distrust from the beginning, or perhaps you didn't notice. Then quite by accident, I discovered a quiet spot, a place of respite."

"Do not speak of that night."

"Ah, so you felt that too. Quite an admission coming from an emotionless pious soldier such as yourself. Yes?"

"I only came here to ask you to stay, for him."

"And once again, putting your needs aside."

"I'm not interested in your witless banter, mage. You will either stay and be helpful or go. I can do nothing more than ask."

"If you asked me to stay, I might," the mage whispered hope floating on his exhale and hammering in his chest. Yes, he was a stubborn man.

Cullen didn't answer.

With a long sigh, Dorian tossed the book to the stone floor. "I'm done here. Time to move on."

"Where are you going?"

"Home, of course. How did you put it? 'I'm not the same man'? Perhaps I can use some of my families influence to make some changes, do some good. I'll take my leave of you, Commander. I plan an early start in the morning."

The mage deliberately turned from the outstretched hand and fled the library. Cullen could only watch him leave and stayed still for a long time listening to the sounds of Dorian's quick steps as he left the hall.

In the blue light of early morning, Dorian buckled the saddlebags closed and patted the horse's rump before shouldering his cloak and closing the clasp against the early morning frost. Securing his staff, he noticed the bloodstains and scratches marring the beautiful wood. Well, it was to be expected he supposed, they'd both taken a beating and learned more about survival and the dark side of magic than he'd ever imagined.

When he took a last look over the dark stone of Skyhold and the slow movements of the waking town he felt no regrets. At least, none he allowed to enter his thoughts. There would be time enough on the road to explore those, and he dreaded it. He'd done good things here and intended to continue in Tevinter. Perhaps he would miss The Iron Bull's good-natured teasing, Cassandra's boundless pragmatism, Lilianna's glowering, and the Inquisitor's quiet courage. No, he was not the same man who banged on the gates of Haven so many months ago.

The horse snorted and stamped when he swung himself aboard and gathered the reins. No one came to see him off. It was better that way, no lingering goodbyes, no sad farewells. The guard who opened the gate for him wished him well.

"Maker be with you, vint."

Dorian threw up a hand in farewell and reflected that was about as much sentiment as he had a right to expect.

An hour's ride north brought him into the thick forest where few rays of sunlight flickered through the high trees. The chill and deep, relentless silence dragged him down to a place where thoughts of Cullen saddened him and made him wish for one more moment the soldier, where he could explain and set things right. He knew he'd pushed the soldier too far. But he meant to be there for him and never allow him a single doubt of what happened between them that night.

Deep in melancholy Dorian slumped in the saddle while his horse slowed his stride in response to the loosened reins. The silent green forest closed in around him.

Dorian had almost convinced himself he was looking forward to getting home, when his horse stopped suddenly, jerking the mage from his thoughts. He'd been stupid to allow his attention to waver. The mage readied his staff, sharp eyes scanning the tree line.

Its hoof beats muffled on the mossy ground a war horse stepped carefully into the narrow path. The rider, a faceless man, covered from head to foot in armor gazed at him from behind the visor's narrow eye slits.

"Even a powerful mage shouldn't go about the open country without an armed escort."

"I can take care of myself, Knight."

The stranger nudged his horse closer. Dorian's smaller horse held steady at the approach of the large destrier and the knight. Dorian's hands gripped his staff.

The Knight reached for his helmet and pulled it off his head. "No more a knight or even a commander. A simple foolish man who would escort you home… if you'll have him."

"If I refuse your services, Mister Rutherford?"

"I shall ride off, just as you have, to find my own adventure."

The mage pointed to the forest floor. "Do you believe this narrow path is wide enough for two?"

"Aye I do, Mage. Just as easily as my bed held the two of us."

With a voice cracked with emotion, Dorian tried to respond without betraying his full heart so suddenly full of hope. "Then I shall trust your instincts, Sir Knight. Shall we?"

They had ridden for several yards before Dorian stopped. When Cullen pulled his horse up, Dorian reached over and covered the gauntlet-clad hands with his own. "It means, 'my love.'"

"That it does, Mage. That it does."

* * *

_finem_


	4. Ligare

* * *

"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be." ―Douglas Adams, The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

* * *

 

At the top of a hill overlooking a broad valley, the low clouds concealed the riders as they crested the final row of foothills overlooking the town below. The bloated clouds muffled the sound of the horses galloping through the thick morning mist. Cullen Rutherford pulled his horse up sharply at his first view of Tevinter partially hidden under the scudding clouds. The sharp tang of lightning in the air and the sound of distant thunder added a bit of foreboding to the moment.

"Maker," Cullen breathed.

Dorian chuckled. "Now, now, keep a stout heart and all that, Sir Knight. It's only dark walls, tumbled stone, cutthroat politics, blood magic, and slavery. All in a day's work, yes?"

The mage's comment confirmed his suspicion about Dorian's growing restlessness. Over three days and nights on the road Cullen observed the mage's growing agitation as he gradually relocated his bed roll to the other side of the fire.

He moved his horse closer, "You seem restive?"

Dorian shied away from Cullen's appraisal. The wise man hit the target too close for his liking. For Maker's sake, he had to tell him and it couldn't wait until they were at the Imperial Bridge. It wouldn't be fair to Cullen or this relationship if that were what it truly was. Never having anything to compare it to, Dorian was frankly unsure of himself. Now, he was about to return to a family and society, which he still dreams about with an ex-Templar in tow. Turning to any town but this one seemed like a good plan.

"Dorian?"

"I don't need a bloody nursemaid." Dorian's previous attempt at humor dissolved in a rush of angry words.

With a glance that spoke not of blame or injured feelings, but the wisdom of the workings of men's minds, Cullen wheeled his horse toward a large spreading tree. After removing his helm and gauntlets, he pulled two bottles of ale from his saddlebags, along with two apples, a heel of bread and cheese.

Lowering himself to the ground, Cullen opened his bottle of ale and began to eat.

The contrast of the seasoned soldier to the warm and gentle man pulled at Dorian like Cassandra's grappling chain spell. Hot tears burned his eyes while he felt both humbled and shamed. When Cullen joined him on the trail, he'd felt both drawn and connected to him. Dorian wasn't accustomed to kindness, but this man, this golden man who'd known only the violence, and brutality of a soldier's life is teaching him. Although it terrified him in ways, he didn't comprehend he wanted to learn and intended to stay in this place at his side basking in the warmth and understanding of Cullen's regard.

Dorian knelt and took the offered bottle of ale.

"There is something I need to tell you." Staring down at the bottle as if it had some answers.

"Then say it. If it's that you no longer require my escort then you needn't say anything, just go."

The mage touched Cullen's chin and drew his head around. "Is that all this was? An escort?"

"Was it?"

The golden-amber eyes held him with the unasked question. A question neither of them wanted to be asked. "Don't say it. I couldn't bear it. Lie to me, Cullen." The mage took a long pull on the bottle and tossed it in the grass.

"I watched you ride away from Skyhold from the battlements. Everything around me seemed empty and silent. I remembered during the weeks and months of the battle after you returned from a mission you always came to see me first. With the dust or mud of the road still on you and the blood of your victory staining your armor, you always stopped by with something interesting to tell me. Your observations of the battlefield…I didn't understand." Cullen scrubbed his hand over his face and hair. "I also remembered a moment, when I'd fallen asleep at my desk. The nightmares of the lyrium withdrawal upon me. Something touched me a healing hand soothed the dream away. In the morning, I woke up on the couch in my office."

"You were in no shape to climb that ladder, amicus."

"I have no wish to leave your side, Mage." Cullen stared into the distance, swallowed hard before continuing. "Yet I would understand your restlessness and your anxiety. Do not think me unaware of the difficulties of bringing an ex-Templar into your city."

With a heavy sigh, Dorian joined Cullen on the grass and carded his fingers through the blond hair. When he was satisfied, he began expertly slicing the apples and fed them to Cullen, until he earned a smile from the soldier. Cullen broke off a piece of cheese fed it to the mage.

"Why did you throw your bottle away?"

Dorian took his hand, "And you think that's what I mean to do to you. Just throw you away?"

Dorian ran his thumb over the calloused pads of Cullen's palm.

"I always wondered if you noticed." Dorian took a breath, filling his chest with the air he hoped with give him some courage to say what needed to be said. "My father and I do not understand each other." Dorian laughed, and Cullen winced at the lonely hollow sound. "If only it were that simple."

"Say it, Dorian. The sharing of it will ease its power over you." Dorian watched Cullen lace his fingers with his. "I love you too much to judge, but allow me to help you with whatever this is."

The mage's head shot up. He hadn't expected that. "Cullen of all the success the Inquisition experienced. We saved the world. Yes? That you survived is all I can think of…" He pressed the back of Cullen's hand to his cheek.

"Then allow me to share this burden or allow me to leave you. I cannot do both."

This shouldn't be so hard. The Inquisitor knew the whole fucking story, and they weren't even friends.

"My father does not approve of my lifestyle. To bring me to heel he planned a blood magic ritual to change me into the man who would marry and carry on the family line. His fucking legacy is all he ever cared about."

Cullen gave his apple core to his nosy horse and pulled Dorian into his arms. "I've often wondered what it would be like to have children, a wife. I have two sisters and a brother. I love them dearly. Dorian, husbands, and wives often go their separate ways once the children are born. Is it any different In Tevinter?"

The mage raised his head, "Are you encouraging me to marry? A woman?"

Cullen laughed throwing his head back. Before he could protest, Dorian pushed him back and crawled over his chest. Thier mouths pressed together hungrily. Between kisses, Dorian murmured, "And what would that make you, my Mistress? Scortator?"

Spreading his legs so Dorian shifted between, Cullen encouraged the kiss to go deeper. He didn't much care the about the what and how of this man kissing him senseless, he wanted to build something with him. A relationship and partnership and help him with whatever he wanted to accomplish in Tevinter.

Freedom from the Lyrium and the success with the Inquisition gave him a different perspective on his life. Perhaps he was no longer a young man, but life felt new to him and he was ready to explore it. Explore it with this handsome man tickling his nose with his mustache and grinding his hips against his arousal.

"Whatever awaits us, know that I am with you," Cullen promised against the Mage's full lips. All of this was new to Cullen Rutherford, soldier, Templar Knight-Commander and Commander of the Inquisition forces.

The sudden appearance of a knife at his throat and the strength of gauntlet clad hands yanking him to his feet was not. He knew better than to struggle. When they dragged a startled Dorian to his feet, his good judgment nearly lost to his need to protect the Mage. A glance at their horses let him know their weapons were now out of their reach as they were led away.

Cullen counted a dozen armed men, two of whom were mages. Although if they were Imperium soldiers they might all be mages. A very dangerous situation where a sword and armor may have little effect. The men tied their hands behind their back, and Cullen noticed they bound Dorian's hands with a kind of thick cloth. He wondered if it were to prevent him using magic. If that were, so they were in real trouble, he thought, as his hands were bound tightly behind his back.

Dorian's fury was evident, "Do you know who the fuck I am?."

All the soldiers laughed. The question was probably redundant since all the soldiers were dressed in Imperium livery.

The sergeant made a mock bow, "You're Dorian of House Pavus, Altus Mage and now you're a hostage. We heard you were heading home with your latest buggery. Now that we see it's Commander Cullen Rutherford himself, the price of your release will make us all the wealthier. Too bad you won't be able to share in the riches we'll get from your father when he finds out. All just to save your life to make babies. But making babies just isn't quite your thing is it? Still, it's worth the gamble and your armor, weapons and horses are worth the bother at any rate.

They stared at each other across the clearing. Cullen is looking for an opportunity to bring these bastards down and Dorian shaking his head pleading with Cullen not to try anything. The leader walked passed Cullen and attempted to punch him in the stomach. Cullen blocked the punch with his right leg, then with his left swept the man off his feet. A blow to his temple brought Cullen to his knees.

Cullen spoke one uttered one word through clenched teeth. "Blackwall."

"Your boy here isn't too smart." The bandit snorted with glee. It was a horrible sound. "We can't scar you up Pavus, but we can have a little fun with your boy."

The men shouted their approval and moved in.

"I don't care what you do to him. He means nothing to me, you cretins. He's not Cullen Rutherford. I came upon him stealing the horse and armor from the dead body of Cullen Rutherford."

The leader strolled around the two men, "You two looked kind of cute lying there in the grass when we snuck up on you. He may or may not be Rutherford, but think there's more to you two than you're letting on. So how about we start with you telling us where the rest of the Pavus fortune is hidden. You know, a little extortion between friends and before you say no," He spun and kicked Cullen between the legs. The man bit down on a scream but managed to stay upright.

"Look at me. Open your eyes. Look at me and don't look away." Cullen did as he was told, his fair skin blotched with agony. Dorian watched the other man's face willing him to be okay. But he couldn't promise anything. Without his staff, his hands or a weapon there was little he could do to save them. Cullen had tried and was quickly subdued.

Dorian noticed the men's clothes. With their threadbare and mismatched uniforms, he could tell these were not Tevinter guards. And that made matters worse. With Tevinter Guards he could promise a bribe, these outlaws were unpredictable. If they hurt Cullen. Agony bloomed at what he knew they could do to him. He had to get his hands free.

Staring into Cullen's eyes, Dorian found the courage and the ability to focus. The bandits were busy dividing up the spoils and for the moment weren't paying attention to their captives. One or two of them dragged their eyes over Cullen and rubbed their crotch in anticipation. Sweat beaded on his face while he brought all his skills to bear and a spark of magical energy flashed in his palm. Buried between the rag and his other hand, it ignited the cloth.

One of the men approached Cullen from behind and knocked him over. Cullen, with the quick instincts of a warrior, hit the ground rolling. The bandit tried to jump him, but Cullen scissored his legs and brought the man down.

Joining the fun, one man knocked Cullen on the head with the butt of his weapon. The others dragged the semi-conscious man to a fallen tree and tossed him over. Cullen struck out with his armored legs.

"Try that again, and I will cut that pretty face of his." The leader's deadly tones chilled Cullen to the bone. It had taken only a moment before they'd ripped off his armor. The leader sliced off his small clothes with a dagger and bared his backside. Cullen ground his teeth together and imagined burying the blade in the bastard's throat.

The leader spits into his hand and used it to wet his thickening cock.

Dorian's hands burned. Agony clouded his concentration. He couldn't lose this man. They had so much to gain united. Resolve and desire gave him strength. The ropes smoldered and ignited. Flames licked the flesh of his hands. If he maimed his hands...

The smacking sound of flesh on flesh pulled a groan from Cullen. The red handprint on his pale ass cheeks enraged Dorian. The Mage's head came up.

No, no. Maker no. He cannot let this happen. It's within his power to stop this. No one is paying him any attention as they watch their leader prepare to violate that gentle, loving man. He could not allow Cullen to experience this horror.

* * *

 

Ligare. The root significance of ligare is to bind or connect together; this is also quite akin to the ancient Sanskrit dharma in its deeper and fundamental meaning and connotation, that which binds things together.


	5. Ani L'Dodi, v'Dodi Li

* * *

Dorian heard the sound of Cullen’s grunt of pain when they tied his legs open he changed as a man, and a mage. Here, this morning bound and lying in the thick wet grass he forgot himself. He forgot his family and his position as an Altus. He forgot that a man of good breeding and education does not allow himself to lose control. Rage boiled to the surface as the pain of his burnt hands faded. The thickening fog roiled and eddied around him. Throughout the fighting toward bringing down Corypheus, he fought well and with honor. Honor fled this morning when the sound of leather striking Cullen’s flesh made him flinch as if the blow hit his own flesh.

Cullen followed him into the wilderness ready to stay by his side even when they reached Minrathous. What had he done? Hesitated. And by hesitating and withdrawing caused Cullen to doubt what they had together and what lay ahead. When he heard Cullen’s gasp of pain, he made a vow to himself. A silent vow, which had nothing to do with family position, or politics or magic. He loved that silent blonde giant. In spite of their differences, in spite of Cullen’s inbred distrust of Mages he’d held out his hand to Dorian. Allowed himself to learn to trust the Dark Necromancer from Trevinter. Each time they returned, tired and filthy, from a battle, when even the horses couldn’t take one more step, Cullen had sought him out. Ready with a drink or a touch meant to sooth the terrors of battle and the pain of injuries.

They hit him again.

Their brutish ways marked the physical beauty of the man he loved. Dorian felt rather than heard, Cullen’s teeth grinding together to keep from crying out. Cullen. The man he spent curled against on so many nights. The man whose scars were not simply scars of battle, but physical memories of a soldier’s life. A life spent too often alone, freezing in a tent.

A pair of men for whom loneliness and isolated came too often, came together and discovered how good life could be when there is someone to live for, someone to come home too. Nights when too exhausted to move they simply lay together in the flickering candlelight and talked. There hadn't been enough of those and Dorian’s vow included many more nights of passion and quiet romantic moments.

Tired of torturing the soldier they began to fight over who would take the first turn. Their squabbling covered the flash of fire igniting Dorian’s hands and clothes. But his hands are free!

The leader snarled at them to back away, striking the man closest to him with the lash. The shuffling sound of clothes. The sound of the piggish man spitting in his hands and the filthy sound of his hand stroking himself to full arousal. The man would not live to know release.

With a blow of magic, Dorian freed himself and burned away the ropes around his ankles. In one graceful movement, he leaped to his feet. Whirling he aimed at the man on his knees behind Cullen. A wall of flame knocked the man aside, melting the skin from his bones. But not before Dorian caught the man’s look of surprise and heard his scream of denial before dying with nothing but a greasy puddle to show he’d once been alive.

The others shouted in fear and tried to run. Instead of fire, Dorian summoned undead to finish the deed for him. The men would know the relentless horror of slow death and the pain of slashing fiery claws. He would see them tortured as they had tortured Cullen. Perhaps someday, Andraste would forgive him.

Dorian scrambled on his hands and knees toward Cullen slicing open the ropes that bound him. Lifting him into his arms Cullen sagged willingly against him. Dorian straightened Cullen’s cloak to cover the torn flesh until they could be seen to.

“They’re gone, Cullen.”

A full minute later, Cullen’s shivering subsided and he pulled away. His kiss of thanks burned Dorian’s mouth with its emotional intensity and tasted of sweat and gratitude. Only Dorian would know of the sob that broke free from the soldier’s stoic heart. Dorian swallowed it, absorbing it into his soul, hiding it within the kiss.

“I couldn’t hear you. I thought they might have killed you.” Cullen said with his forehead resting on the mage’s dark locks.

Dorian chuckled. “You idiot. Worrying about me when…I couldn’t stand their filthy hands on you.”

With their joined hands he pressed them to his chest, “It was only my physical body. It knows pain. They could not touch what is in here.”

Cullen noticed Dorian’s wince of pain when he pressed his hands. Fresh emotion bubbled over, “Your hands. Your beautiful hands. Dorian?”

“They will heal. First, we must see the lash marks. If you will allow me?”

To his surprise, Cullen staggered to his feet, pulling his clothes together. Setting his jaw against the scrap of leather over the wounds. Dorian glimpsed the fear etching a new line of the warrior's brow.

“Know this, Warrior.” The mage slowly pushed himself to his feet never taking his eyes off Cullen. “What I feel for you. This thing some call love. Nothing, as I am beginning to understand, will change that. Yes?”

Turning away from the place of death, Dorian gathered the horses, while Cullen checked their equipment. In their greed to get at Cullen most of their belongings hadn’t been touched. In a few minutes they were ready to move on. Dorian chuckled at himself, he could not pull gloves over this hands without gloves he wouldn’t be able to hold the reins.

Without responding, Cullen gathered the reins from Dorian. “We need a healer, Mage. I will lead the horses the walk isn’t far and I’m done with this retched fog.”

It was too soon, but the question tumbled from him anyway. Afraid of the truth, but unable to bear the not knowing a moment longer, “Will you enter Minrathous by my side, Warrior?”

Cullen shied away and his cheeks suffused with pink. When he responded his dry humor had returned. “When this humble soldier is shocked by a level of decadence he’s never known will you be there to keep me from making a fool of myself or picking the wrong fork?”

The mage’s heart sang with joy. Words of reassurance poured from him.

“The only decadence you will know is the feather ticking of the mattress in my bed chamber. The silk sheets and down-filled blanket waiting to wrap you in comfort. The reliable privacy of my personal living spaces. Waking, not to a soldier’s cold rations, but food prepared to please the palate and nourish the body. Days spent as you wish, in solitude or among new friends, in study or pleasure in whatever means you may imagine. If you wish to work among the soldiers than a place will be found for you. A place of honor and substance.”

Cullen reached out and took Dorian’s hand. They laced their fingers gently together before Dorian continued. “For my part, I shall seek the guidance of Cullen Rutherford whose reliable common sense and foresight will keep me on a firm path toward helping my people. And we shall not hide what we have together, instead we will celebrate. This is the confidence I know at your side, Warrior. Will you allow me to return the full measure of whatever about me pleases you?”

With eyes brimming they embraced silently. Only the sound of the their impatient horses pulled them apart.

“Yes, to all those things and learning my place at your side.”

Dorian shook his head, “We stand together now, Cullen. This very morning. It shall be for others to learn about their place with us.”

Then hand in hand they descended the path, into the sunlight and the entrance to the Imperial Highway and the narrow bridge leading to Minrathous.

* * *

 

Ani L'Dodi, v'Dodi Li “I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine…” Song of Solomon 6:3


End file.
